


so tell me you love me the way i love you

by magnetichearts



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Developing Relationship, Didn't Know They Were Dating, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Meddling, Miscommunication, Pining, Texting, and anne pines for like ever but don't worry, and because it's me there's also the affliction of, anne is confused 89 percent of the time, bisexual!anne, cause my girl deserves it!, everyone makes fun of them, gilbert is a softy, she gets everything in the end, teenagers being dumb, that's it that's the fic, they're just dumb, yeah that's literally it lmao, zero word count control™️
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetichearts/pseuds/magnetichearts
Summary: Whenever she looks up at him, she’s always a bit overwhelmed with this—this feeling, like she wants to kiss him or something. It’s usually ok when they’re in class, when she has her other friends and school work to distract her, but now, with him walking her home, the lines get blurred in a very real, very nerve-wracking way that she doesn’t know how to handle. And it’s all Gilbert. His dark curls and dark eyes, coupled with a jaw that looks like it could cut glass and a smile that she’s sure no sculpture could ever replicate. He’s like a black hole, sucking in all the light and pulling her in without even trying.or; everyone at avonlea high knows that anne and gilbert are dating. except, you know, anne.(title from “you spent all your love” by mega mango)
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 26
Kudos: 321





	so tell me you love me the way i love you

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [got my heartbeat (skipping down sixteenth avenue)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20415394) by [cosmicwritings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicwritings/pseuds/cosmicwritings). 



> lmao this is dumb. it's so dumb. it's 15k words of teenagers being ridiculously dumb, and like, i love it sorry lmfaoooooo. shout out to @cosmicwritings for letting me borrow the premise of this fic, which she borrowed from @andtimestoodstill. i read her peter/mj version of it and i KNEW i needed one for shirbert so, i wrote it. it ended up being 5k longer than i expected, but, who cares. 
> 
> i described this to my friends while writing it as "anne being confused 89% of the time and gilbert being head over heels for her 100% of the time" and i stand by that description. that's it. 
> 
> my first time posting shirbert and dear GOD i hope they're accurate. i fucking love them so much i might cry. gilbert blythe is my ideal man and i don't want anyone else in life. i wrote this in two days cause i'm that obsessed. seriously, i wrote 12k in one day. someone help me. 
> 
> a few housekeeping things: this takes place over two months, i know prom dress shopping usually happens a lot earlier, and i reference some things that happen in the book series as well, so it's sort of a mix of the two. thanks!
> 
> anne's bisexual as fuck because uh, duh that girl is. don't like don't read and also i don't fucking care. um yeah that's fucking it. the newspaper staff makes fun of them and takes bets and everyone's friends except billy because i hate that asshole and he's not even mentioned. good riddance. also i hate mr. phillips and i am ms. stacy's bitch. anne bash friendship gives me life. 
> 
> k thanks bye enjoyyyyyyyy!!!!!!

“So, what did you think of Phillips’s lesson on trigonometric identities today?” 

Anne glances over at Gilbert, who’s twirling a pen in his hand as he leans back in his chair. “Do I really need to tell you?” she says, wrinkling her nose. 

He barks out a laugh. “Fair enough.” 

She shudders. “That man should be fired.” 

Gilbert raises an eyebrow at her, grinning. “Maybe just don’t write about it in the paper so we don’t all get called to the administration this time.” 

She smacks him on the chest, ignoring that it’s firm and broad beneath her hand. “Gilbert!” 

He laughs again, tipping back dangerously in his chair, and she can’t help but smile. They’re currently waiting for the rest of Avonlea High’s paper to show up. It’s always her and Gilbert first, because they have ninth free, and they usually spend it waiting in the empty classroom designated for newspaper duties and studying. 

Well, she studies as much as she can before she and Gilbert inevitably get distracted and start talking about the weirdest things. She wishes she hated it more than she did. 

“I only jest, Carrots,” he says, eyes twinkling. He holds his hands up in surrender, then moves the right one to rub at his head. “I’m well acquainted with your temper, as you very well know.” 

Anne flushes pink (which, tragically, clashes horribly with her hair) as she recalls the very first time she met Gilbert, when she bent her magnetic locker board over his head. 

They’ve come quite a far way since then, although her temper has not abated much. 

“You call it temper, I call it passion,” she affirms, lifting her head and linking her hands together in front of her. 

He snorts. “Semantics, Anne.” 

_“Anyways,”_ she stresses, “what do we have planned for this week’s paper? Since spring is approaching, I thought we could do some lighter pieces before taking next week to really shape up our piece on genetically modified organisms.”

Gilbert nods, finally tipping forward in his chair to lean towards her. His shoulder brushes hers as he glances at her sheet. “How about the best picnic destinations in Avonlea? It’s beautiful out.” 

She gasps. “Oh, Gil, that’s perfect!” She scratches the idea out in her notebook, glancing at him through eyelashes. “Thank you.” 

“Any time, Shirley,” he smirks, reaching out to tug on a curl of her hair. When he’d done that back in eighth grade, she’d smacked him over the head, but now she just rolls her eyes fondly and gets back to listing down places that could work for Gilbert’s idea. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” Diana announces, rushing into the room and flopping into the chair next to Anne. “You can stop flirting now.” 

Anne blushes a bright red, while the tips of Gilbert’s ears turn pink, but she doesn’t deny anything, and she notices, neither does he. 

“Well,” she breathes, as the rest of the newspaper staff files into the room, “shall we get started?” 

* * *

Anne rubs absently at her nose as she shuffles her papers together, mind halfway away on all the work she needs to get done. Sure, it’s April of her senior year, so she really can’t be bothered to care about school much more, but she still wants to beat Gilbert out for valedictorian. He was her only serious competition, anyways, since they went to a _tiny_ school. 

“I’ll text you later tonight,” Diana says, dropping a kiss on Anne’s cheek. She smiles at her best friend as she rushes out the door, leaving Ms. Stacy, Gilbert, and Anne as the only people left in the room. 

“How does that work?” Gilbert asks, sauntering up to her. He’s rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, and she can’t resist her eyes tracing over the cord of muscle that shows as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Having your best friend and ex-girlfriend be one and the same?” 

Anne shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not much different from usual. Plus, we had a pretty amicable breakup.” 

Gilbert shuffles on his feet, nodding seriously. Why does he care so much about her and Diana’s relationship? It had lasted all of two months at the very beginning of sophomore year. She had had a great time with her, but they had both decided it would be best to stay as friends. 

“So—that’s something you would consider? Dating a friend?” He twists a hand around the strap of his messenger bag as he asks, dark eyes boring into hers. 

For a second, she thinks he’s talking about them which is—ridiculous. She’s long since resigned herself to the fact that her kinda massive crush on Gilbert was unrequited, considering she had been just short of in love with him since sophomore year. She wasn’t like the girls he dated, not usually. She’d been there when he dated Winnie Rose, a senior to his sophomore, and had spent plenty of sleepless nights agonizing over her unreturned feelings. 

But over time the crush had faded into something more muted. The feelings are still there—she doesn’t really think they’ll ever go away—but now they’re softer. Stronger, even, not so much passion as there is love built off of friendship. 

But—he’s not talking about them. He can’t. So, she answers as honestly as she can. “Of course,” she smiles. “It would be a little risky, of course, but all the best romances are built on friendship, don’t you think?” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” he says softly. She swallows roughly as he smiles at her a little shaky, but runs her hand down her skirt. 

“Are you ready?” she asks, picking up her bag. 

He nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

They bid their goodbyes to Ms. Stacy and head out of the room, setting out for the exit of the school. After school, on Fridays, which are the days the newspaper staff meets, Gilbert insists on walking her home, claiming that it’s too dangerous for her to go alone this late, even though they live in _Avonlea,_ but she lets him because she enjoys his company regardless. 

They can talk about anything and everything, from Anne’s deep seated fears of abandonment following her entirely-too-long stint in foster care, to Gilbert’s fear of forgetting his father. 

They talk about dumber things too, like zombie survival strategies and making up disease names, and it scares Anne that she kind of can’t tell which conversation she likes better. 

“Ok. Who would you want on your team in an apocalypse?” he says, kicking a stone off of the sidewalk as he ambles down. The wind ruffles his curls, and Anne forces herself to look ahead and not at how handsome he looks as she ponders his question. 

“Diana, for sure, obviously.” 

Gilbert rolls his eyes. “Shocker. Who else?” 

“Josie, I think.” At his surprised look, she elaborates. “I mean, I know we don’t get along all the time, but she’s a badass. You know she knows how to fight. She’d be helpful. Cole and Jerry, of course.” 

“Whoa, Anne,” Gilbert laughs, turning the corner. “You can’t take everyone.” 

She smiles cheekily at him. “I wasn’t. My last choices are Bash, Mary, and Delly.” 

“Oh, that’s a low blow, Carrots.” 

Anne smirks. “Why are you so sad, Blythe? I left you with your friends.” 

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, and I’ll have to watch Moody and Ruby make out all the time cause they’re on the same team.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “Would you rather they be on opposite teams?” 

He ponders it for a moment before shaking his head, sending her that stupidly heart-stopping grin that he doesn’t even know he has. It makes her heart race in her chest, every time. “No, definitely not.” 

Anne snorts as she tucks her hair behind her ear, bracelets jangling as she does so. “They’re kinda cute, occasionally.” 

“When they’re not sticking their tongues down each other’s throats,” Gilbert snorts. 

“You’re not a big one for PDA, are you, Gil?” she teases. 

He shrugs. “Never had the right person, I guess.” 

Now that she knows, for a fact, is incorrect, because she’d never seen Gilbert as enamored with anyone as he was with Winifred—Winnie—Rose, their sophomore year. It had been painful, watching him with her when she had just realized her own feelings for him, but there wasn’t anything she could do. It wasn’t like she had confessed and he shot her down—no, she just hadn’t told him. Hadn’t told anyone, not even Diana, because it had scared her. It doesn’t scare her anymore—her feelings, not losing him, cause she’ll always be scared of losing him—but she does watch Gilbert occasionally, seeing if that longing for Winnie is still there. 

He hadn’t been a _mess_ when they broke up, but she knew something had changed with him. It hadn’t taken long for the old Gilbert to come back, but she had been worried about him in those few months. But, she’s the first to admit (to herself, no one else) that some small, dark, jealous part of her had been happy when her Gilbert—the studious, sarcastic, curious one—had come back. 

He smiles down at her, and she’s vividly reminded of how much taller than her he is. She’s not unusually small, for her age, but Gilbert is nothing but tall and dark curls, and he looks every bit like all of the romantic heroes she’d dreamt of when she was a girl. (and still sometimes dreams of) 

She glances away then, lest she gets enamored by the cut of his jaw like she does in biology sometimes. Whenever she looks up at him, she’s always a bit overwhelmed with this—this _feeling,_ like she wants to kiss him or something. It’s usually ok when they’re in class, when she has her other friends and school work to distract her, but now, with him walking her home, the lines get blurred in a very real, very nerve-wracking way that she doesn’t know how to handle. And it’s all Gilbert. His dark curls and dark eyes, coupled with a jaw that looks like it could cut glass and a smile that she’s sure no sculpture could ever replicate. He’s like a black hole, sucking in all the light and pulling her in without even trying. 

“Hey, didn’t you mention wanting some more music recommendations the other day?” he says. 

She nods. She had, actually, and she ignores the warmth that spreads throughout her when she realizes he’d been listening. 

“Here, I wanted to show you something.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands her his earbuds. She slips one in her ear as she watches him navigate the screen, holding the other one in her hand at the ready. “I thought you’d like this song.” 

She glances at the screen. _Vesuvius._ Sufjan Stevens. 

“Oh, I love Sufjan Stevens,” she gasps. 

He grins. “I know. I figured you hadn’t listened to everything yet, but I put together a playlist based off of his songs and a few other artists I know you like. Here, I wrote them down during lunch.” 

He hands her his phone and she presses play on the song, placing the other earbud in her ear, pressing the little control to up the volume as he rifles through his bag for the paper. 

She hums, enjoying the song. A bit depressing for her tastes, but she’s been on a sadder kick lately. She does get a bit sad at the thought of leaving Gilbert, Diana, Cole, all her friends. Most of them were headed to Queens anyways, except for a few. Gilbert was headed to University of Toronto, while Cole was shipping off to OCAD. She got sad when she was realizing that what they had in that room wasn’t ever going to be like that again. 

She focuses back on the music, nodding along to it and laughing at a particularly clever lyric. She casts her eyes over at Gilbert, and he’s smiling at her, grinning wide. The song ends, and she hands Gilbert back his phone, smiling. 

“So I’ll, um, I’ll text you about hanging out tomorrow?” 

She blinks, a little taken aback. Sure, it’s not _unusual_ for her and Gilbert to hang out but—on a Saturday? Not after school? 

“Only if that’s ok with you, of course!” he rushes to correct himself. 

Why—why wouldn’t it be? Sure, she and Gilbert don’t hang out incredibly frequently on their own time—barring the Friday walk home—but, she likes him. They’re friends. She can hang out with her friend on a Saturday. That’s not weird. 

“Yeah. Yeah—sure. If you want to.” 

He gives her a fond look. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear I want to.” 

“Do you have anything specific planned?” 

He just grins at her. “It’s a surprise.” 

Anne nods as if she understands, although she really doesn’t, like, at all, but she smiles at him as they reach the gate to Green Gables. “Ok then, Gilbert. It better be a good surprise, though,” she teases. 

“Of course it will, Carrots.” He reaches out and tugs on her curl one last time, before stepping away. 

She unlatches the gate and turns away from him, forcing herself not to look back until she’s safely in her room.

* * *

**_chat:_ ** _gilbert_

**gilbert:** i’m on my way

**anne:** i thought you said 9:30???

**gilbert:** anne…..it’s 9:25

**anne:** FUCK

**anne:** i might be a bit late i’m so sorry i was reading

**gilbert:** it’s fine. i factored shirley reading time into my plans :)

**gilbert:** i’ll wait

**anne:** you’re the best, gil

**anne:** you can’t tell me where we’re going?

**gilbert:** just wear something comfy and come out

* * *

“Gilbert Blythe,” Anne grumbles, stepping out of the house, her gaze focused on her hair, “I still don’t understand why you insist on this being a secret.” 

She finally drops her hands from where they’ve been meddling with her hair and focuses on Gilbert. 

Is it just her...or does he look particularly good today, hair windswept, wearing worn jeans and a button down shirt the exact color of the sky. This is so fucking _unfair._ He’s like, a vision, and she’s over here trying to wrangle her hot mess of a hairdo.

And he’s _leaning._ Against a tree! Like—like some goddamn movie hero. Anne literally hates herself. Why does he have to look so good and force her to languish in unrequited attraction? What did she do to deserve this? She tries to be a good person, to be compassionate and kind and wonderful. She doesn’t need Gilbert Blythe turning her inside and out for this. 

“Stop that,” he says fondly, as she runs her hand through her hair again. “You’re going to mess it up.” 

She groans. “That’s the point. I look horrible.” 

Gilbert rolls his eyes, and then his hands go to her hair, carefully arranging and settling her loose curls so they look somewhat better. “You always look beautiful, Carrots.” 

Um, what? She’s fairly sure her brain just shorted out. Gilbert’s complimented her before—normally in the field of academia or her imagination, and she’s heard those same compliments from people like Marilla, Ms. Stacy, Diana, for them to be sweet, but utterly not incredibly life changing or earth shattering. 

But—he called her _beautiful._ Not hot or cute, beautiful, and it does things to her insides that she _really_ does not want to consider. 

He notices the startled look on her face as he finishes fixing her hair, and his expression drops. “Should—should I not have said that?” 

“No!” she blurts out. Dear lord, she’s always prided herself on her gargantuan vocabulary and ability to summon the ideal word necessary for any situation, but being around Gilbert—turns her into a bumbling fool with only two words at her disposal! “No,” she repeats, a bit calmer, smoothing down the front of her shirt. “Thank you.” 

He grins at her, and she can’t help but smile back. “Are you ready?” 

“Perhaps I’d be a bit more suited for an adventure if you told me something about it,” she presses, hoping to get something out of him. 

He laughs. “You’re too clever by half, Anne.” He taps her on the nose, sending a spark of happiness through her, before he takes her hand and links their fingers together. 

Her brain shorts out, and she can only follow because he’s pulling her along, chattering animatedly about his AP Anatomy class and how he’s preparing for the exam, which is only a few weeks away.

She can barely take in whatever he is saying as their hands swing between him, and she nearly stumbles to keep up, her brain simply grinding to a halt. 

Why—why is he holding her hand? Jesus, she’s getting a headache just _thinking_ about it. Irrationally, she feels a bit angry with Gilbert. What right does he have to look like—like some hero straight out of the pages of a romance novel, or her dream man, crafted by Aphrodite’s hands to torment her, so close and yet, so far. She glances up to the sky and whispers a silent question. What did she ever do to deserve this torment, in love with her best friend, the only person she ever wants to be with, and the one person in the world she’s sure will never love her back the same way she loves him. 

“Anne?’ he asks, jolting her back to reality. “Are you alright?” 

She blinks suddenly and grapples for an excuse, chuckling. “Yeah. Just um, slow down a bit. Not all of us have freakishly long legs.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says instantly, slowing his pace. They amble towards the park she recognizes is not too far away. 

“Gilbert,” she says slowly. “What are we doing?” 

He smirks. “Well, I figured we could kill two birds with one stone and try one of the picnic spaces out for ourselves. Really see if it’s worthy of making it onto Avonlea High’s paper.” 

They walk a bit further into the park, and Anne gasps when she sees the picnic blanket laid out by the lake. She’s always wanted to go on a picnic, but she can’t—she doesn’t remember ever mentioning this to him. 

“How did you do this?” she breathes, taking in the blanket with the basket next to it.

“I’m magic, Anne. Didn’t you know?” As if to prove it, he wiggles his fingers in front of her face and then draws them up her side, tickling her. 

She shrieks with laughter, trying to pull herself away but forgetting that their hands are still intertwined. What happens is the exact opposite, and he ends up pulling her closer to him, chest pressed against hers. Her head barely comes up to his chin. He’s _so_ much taller than her, and some small, girlish part of Anne delights in it. He stops tickling her, and looks down, and she wants to faint when she realizes his face is barely a few inches away from hers. 

They’re a bit too close for comfort, though, and so she steps back, clearing her throat. “Spill, Blythe. And don’t lie to me,” she says, arching an eyebrow, pretending to act normal. 

He sighs. “I got Bash to help me out.” 

She snickers. “Should I go thank him then?” 

“Definitely not. He wouldn’t stop bothering me about you ever since I mentioned it,” he groans. 

Anne’s glad Gilbert can’t see her flush as she follows him to the picnic table. She barely remembers a time when Bash wasn’t in their lives. (and pestering them)

Gilbert’s dad had passed away at the end of eighth grade, and his best friend—Bash—had come to live in Avonlea to take care of Gilbert. And, Bash has always been certain that there’s something between them, no matter how many times they’d tried to deny it. 

She can’t help but get her hopes up every time he nags Gilbert about it—aside from her, no one else knows Gilbert quite as well, and if he sees something, then perhaps something is there. 

But then all she needs to do to come back to earth is to remind herself of Winnie, and how different they were.

“How did he react when you told him?” she laughs, settling down on the picnic blanket beside him. He leans back on his arms and throws his head back, laughing, and she admires him, smiling at how happy he seems. 

Gilbert—he’s gone through a lot, and he deserves to be happy. For the first time in their lives, they don’t have anything to worry about, scholarship students to some of the best schools in the country, in their senior year, happy. She’s happy to see him this carefree, after the quiet, more studious, serious Gilbert that had been ever present during junior year.

“Danced, and then woke Delly up with his cheering. Mary was _pissed.”_ His eyes sparkle as he grins at her, though she’s a little confused. She can’t see a reason for Bash to be happy that they’re just hanging out. 

Other than perhaps that Gilbert forgot to correct him and add the “as friends” to the end, and he’s taking it as a date. She resolves to set Bash straight the next time she sees him, but then Gilbert’s handing her the basket and she immediately forgets what she’d been thinking of. 

“Um, thanks?”

He laughs. “Open it.” 

Anne eyes him weirdly. He’s been acting a bit strange but, it’s also entirely possible this is just a side of Gilbert she’s never seen before, free and happy. “You’re a weirdo, Gil.” 

“Just trust me, Anne-girl. Come on.” 

Ane purses her lips but shrugs in acceptance, and flips open the lid of the basket. Her mouth drops open as she sees what’s inside. “Oh, Gil,” she breathes. 

He leans forward, peering inside the basket. “Do you like them?” 

She draws out a beautiful bunch of white gardenias, running her fingers along the edges. “Why, Gilbert?”

“I wanted to. Just a gift for my favorite girl. Isn’t that enough of a reason?” 

What the actual _fuck?_ He can’t go around saying shit like that? She’s going to keel over at the age of 18. 18! She hasn’t even had a truly wonderful kiss, (Roy Gardner had been _so_ disappointing) she hasn’t been to Paris or seen Spain, she hasn’t ridden an elephant and splashed under a waterfall, and here’s Gilbert Blythe, saying the things she’d only _dreamed_ of him saying. It’s too much for her poor heart. 

But she can’t say _any_ of this, because she’ll suffer only the most horrible rejection if she does, she knows it, cause Gilbert could never love a girl like _her,_ after he’d had the most _beautiful_ senior in school. So, she says what she _can_ say. 

“Better not let Delly or Mary hear you say that,” she smirks, shoving down her feelings as she buries her face in the flowers.

“True. You might pull ahead just a _little_ bit with Delly, but all bets are off once she learns to talk.” 

“How is she doing?” Anne asks, leaning back and pulling the containers of food out of the picnic basket.

“Smarter every day,” Gilbert says. “I’m just betting that her first word will be Gil.” 

“Oh, Bash will _never_ forgive you if it is.” 

He grins at her. “I know.” 

Anne snorts, rather unladylike, and just barely resists the urge to cover her mouth with her hand. Thankfully, Gilbert doesn’t notice, pulling off a grape from the bunch and popping it into his mouth. “I almost wondered if I should just fill the basket with apples.” 

She tries not to blush at the memory of their first meeting, when Gilbert had—unsuccessfully—tried to give her an apple from the orchard near his house. She had soundly refused him and the apple had ended up in the trash, untouched. 

She wonders what would have happened if she hadn’t steadfastly refused him for nearly all of eighth grade. Would they have become closer? Would they have become something more? 

“Anne?” His voice breaks her out of her thoughts, and she smirks. 

“I think I might have hit you with the basket if you had.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Sure, Anne-girl. Now, come on. Finish your food so we can go.” 

She furrows her eyebrows at him. “Where are we going?” 

“I remember saving a girl from drowning in the lake—” 

“I wasn’t drowning, Gilbert.” 

“And she mentioned that she wanted to someday rent the bikes in the park and go for a ride.” 

She gapes at him. “You did that?” 

A soft smile graces his face as he nods. “Yeah. I thought you might like it.” 

If possible, she falls even more in love with him right then and there, and this—this is stupid and ridiculous because when she meets her dream man it’s not supposed to be like this, pining and overwhelming emotions, it’s supposed to be easy and they’re supposed to fall into each other’s arms and run off into the sunset without another care in the world. 

She’s _not_ supposed to fall in love with her best friend and then be stuck in limbo, but, that’s where she is. 

“Thank you, Gilbert.” 

He rubs the back of his neck, turning slightly pink. “It’s not a big deal. But, we won’t be able to go if you don’t get a move on eating.” 

She glances at him. “Can you promise me you didn’t make any of this?” 

Gilbert laughs. “I swear on my heart, I didn’t. It was all Mary.” 

“I guess that’s ok then.” 

“You know, Anne, once we leave for university, you’re going to miss my horrible cooking.” 

“Gilbert, I know there are many things I’ll miss about Avonlea once I leave for Queens, but I guarantee you, your cooking? Not one of them.” 

“You’ll be eating your words shortly, Carrots.” 

“How about you shut up and let me eat?” 

“Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes, but the grin he sends her is nothing short of blinding. 

* * *

“So,” he says, hand still holding hers as he walks her back to Green Gables, “did you have fun today?” 

She thinks back on the bike ride where she and Gilbert—in true competitive fashion, of course—had attempted to race one another to reach the end of the bridge. She had laughed—like, really laughed, and at the end she couldn’t think of a single reason why she and Gilbert hadn’t done this more often. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Gil.” 

He smiles at her, and then, suddenly, lifts their joined hands up and spins her around, still holding onto her. “What was that for?” she laughs. 

He reaches his free hand out and gently runs it down a red curl. “Your hair is prettiest in the sunlight.” 

Oh, dear lord! Someone was going to have to revive her at the end of this. Who was this Gilbert, the one who spoke to her like a romance novel hero, or who brought her flowers and arranged the perfect day—not date.

For a second, she thinks, perhaps this is the Gilbert that Winnie got, the romantical one who is everything she’d ever wanted but—she dismisses that notion almost as soon as it appears. There’s no way Gilbert has feelings for her. It’s just—it’s not possible. 

She clears her throat as they reach Green Gables, turning to face him. Her hand is _still_ in his, a fact that she does not acknowledge at all. “Thanks, Gilbert. You know you didn’t—have to walk me home.” 

He smiles at her, warm, but there’s just a slightest bit of nerves lurking in his eyes. “I wanted to, Anne.” 

She nods. “Oh. Um, ok then.” 

“Yeah, I guess I’ll—I’ll be going, then.” He jerks his thumb in the direction of his house, and Anne tries not to feel disappointment when his hand slips out of hers. 

“Right. Of course.” She gives him a bright smile. She shouldn’t feel disappointed. She’s just had the greatest day with Gilbert. It’s ok to not see him all the time. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” he asks. 

“I don’t plan on cutting.” 

He smiles, shuffling on his feet, and Anne’s about to turn away and head into the house before he ducks his head down and presses his lips to the curve of her cheek. Firmly, but quickly, so fast if she wasn’t paying such close attention to him, she would have missed it. 

“Was—that ok?” he asks. 

She doesn’t want to say _no,_ of course, and have him think that he can’t do it again but. Anne’s somewhat incapable of rational thought right now, her brain cells having been fried as the touch of his lips against her skin, so she can only nod dumbly. 

Gilbert’s grin splits his face open, and he steps away from her, waving his hand in a goodbye. “See you Monday, Carrots.” 

She offers him a wobbly smile back and then rushes into her house, refusing to faint until she’s safely locked away in her room, at which point she collapses on her bed and nearly passes out. 

Ok. This is—weird, to say the least. Gilbert is not a very affectionate, or touchy person in general. Sure, he gives hugs and seeing him with Delly makes Anne feel just, _something,_ but he’s not like, into PDA. Although the more she thinks about it, the less what he had done had classified as PDA. He’d held her hand and sat an acceptable distance away from her on the picnic blanket, and he’d kissed her on the _cheek_ in front of her house, where, no one else could see aside from Matthew or Marilla. 

The more she thinks about it, the more rational it is, and despite the part of Anne that wants to romanticize everything and think that a kiss on the cheek is simply the most _tragic_ way to part, the fact of the matter remains that—Gilbert had kissed Mary on the cheek before—she’d seen him, and she _knows_ what Gilbert is like when he dates someone. Him with Winnie was—the exact opposite of him today. 

He’d taken Winnie to restaurants and shows, and they’d spent more time _away_ from Avonlea than in it. It was—everything that Anne hated, because even though she didn’t see them all the time, she had to watch Gilbert fall harder and harder for someone who was the exact opposite of her. 

And that’s the other thing! This can’t have been a date because she knows Gilbert’s type, tall, beautiful blondes with perfect skin and class, not short, freckled redheads with perpetually skinned knees and who spent the first decade of their life in foster care. 

Anne rolls over and buries her head in her pillows. It makes sense now. Gilbert was just trying to cheer her up, and wanted to spend time with his best friend. There’s nothing more other than that. The kiss on the cheek? Not _that_ unusual, given he sees her the same way he sees Mary or Delly—in a purely platonic way. 

She nods to herself, her face still buried in her pillow. This is logical and rational. 

It’s too bad the only irrational thing is that she thinks she’s fallen even more in love with him. 

* * *

**_chat:_ ** _bosom friend_

**anne:** we still on to meet at grounds later today?

**diana:** yup

**anne:** cool thx

**diana:** so....how did it go with gilbert the other day???

**anne:** how do you know about that

**diana:** gilbert mentioned it to jerry who can’t keep a secret to save his life

**diana:** i gotta say anne i’m kinda surprised i didn’t hear it from you

**anne:** i mean like, i didn’t think it was a big deal. not really worth mentioning

**diana:** ok then…..

* * *

Diana sips her tea as she watches Anne, who eventually drops her pen on the table and gives up on studying for her AP Euro exam. 

“What?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Diana shrugs. “Nothing. You just...seem a bit different.” 

She bristles at the tone in Diana’s voice, as if something is wrong. Nothing is wrong. She’s ok. She’s doing good, about to graduate at the top of her class and go to the same university as her best friend. “I do?” 

Diana nods. “Like, I don’t know, happier. Lighter.” 

Anne snorts. “I’d never thought I’d see the day when you described me as lighter.” 

Diana smiles softly, leaning forward in her seat. “It’s not so much that you’re sad as you’re a bit—subdued. I don’t know, I guess I’ve just been seeing the same girl who thought her imaginary friend lived inside of a clock more and more. I miss the Anne who wasn’t very mature.” 

Anne laughs. “I am particularly proud of that one.” 

“So, where have you been? I feel like I never see you 9th.” 

Anne tilts her head. “Nowhere, really. I’ve just been hanging out a lot with Gilbert.” 

“Ohhhhh.” The look on Diana’s face speaks to a deeper understanding. 

“I’m sorry if you think I’ve been neglecting our friendship,” Anne rushes to correct herself. “I—I haven’t mean to. It’s just that I know you like to spend 9th sometimes with Jerry and before I’d always read but now I spend it with Gil and—” 

“Anne,” Diana says, cutting her off. She places her hand over Anne’s on the table. “I’m not feeling neglected. Don’t worry about it.” 

“You’re—you’re sure?’ Anne asks. 

Her best friend smiles, leaning back in her chair and tilting her head, brown hair tumbling over one shoulder gracefully. Anne viscerally wishes in that moment she was a bit more like Diana, so beautiful and elegant. Maybe then Gilbert would notice her. 

“I’ve been waiting for this too long to feel neglected now. I’m happy to see you and Gilbert having so much fun together.” 

“Oh. Thanks, I guess.” She shoots Diana a confused smile, and returns her attention back to her work. Occasionally, they’ll exchange notes or catch up on what’s going on in classes or with their friends, but other than that, it’s quiet, working in silence. 

She likes it, but she can’t get Diana’s words out of her head, try as she might. 

* * *

What’s unusual about her starting to hang out with Gilbert is that they begin to exchange clothes, of all things. He steals one of her ties and comes to school wearing it the next day, and she has to resist the urge to drag him down by it and kiss him. 

Later, she nicks his jacket and slings it over her shoulders on her way home. It’s impressively loose on her, and she has to resist the urge to bury her nose into the fabric to catch the faint scent of him. 

In retaliation, he grabs her scarf and winds it around his neck, despite it being 60 degrees out, because, as he claims, “Canada weather is unpredictable,” and she can’t find it in herself to steal it back from him because the red looks _amazing_ on him, contrasting with his hair nicely. 

It happens with shocking frequency during spring break. One time, she spills juice on herself when she’s at his place, and he tosses her a button down shirt of his to change into. 

“Gilbert,” she says. “Don’t worry. I can just like—run home and change.” 

He shakes his head. “Why would you do that, Carrots?” He smiles fondly at her. “Just take the shirt.”

So she does, going into the bathroom to change, but once she’s finished buttoning it up, she can’t help but stare at herself in the mirror. 

And like, Gilbert’s not a giant but—he’s broad. He’s tall and so the sleeves hang loose past her hands and she has to roll them up a bunch of times so that she can even try to work. 

Eventually, she gives up and rolls them up so much they go at her elbows, and you can’t even tell she’s wearing shorts cause the hem of the shirt hangs so low. She tucks it into her shorts so it’s a little more manageable and walks out of the bathroom, finding Gilbert in the kitchen. 

She sits down at the table and watches him at the stove, making the one thing in the world he can: an omelette. 

Gilbert glances back and grins at her. “Hey!” He spots her wearing the button down and leans over, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You look nice.” 

She presses her hands to her cheek to prevent him from seeing the inevitable blush that appears on her face at his words. “Thank you,” she says softly. 

Anne sits and fills out the crossword for that day as Gilbert putters around the kitchen, and as she sneaks glances at him under her eyelashes, the pulse of desire to make this real only intensifies within her. 

With each passing moment she spends with him, she reaches the stunning clarity that the passion and attraction she’d thought had faded away are still there, simmering underneath the surface and waiting for her to let them free. But they combine with this feeling of adoration, devotion, and she knows that Gilbert holds every part of her heart without question, and it scares her. Scares her so much she ignores it and focuses on him instead. 

He never asks for the shirt back. She doesn’t intend to return it. 

* * *

“So, what is FSH?” 

“An anterior pituitary hormone that stimulates the follicles in females and the function of the seminiferous tubules in males,” Gilbert rattles off. 

Anne tucks the flashcard into the back of the pile and groans. “Gilbert, you know everything perfectly. Why are you worrying about this?” 

He rolls his eyes, running a hand through his curls, messing them up even more. She tries to ignore how much she likes it. “You know I want to be a doctor, Anne. This is the most important class I'll ever take. I need to ace this exam to show the med program at U of T that I’m a good applicant.” 

Against the advice of her own brain, she reaches out and cups his jaw, running her thumb over the curve of his cheek. His cheekbones jut out like the edge of a cliff, and he’s _beautiful,_ in a way that makes her heart ache in her chest. “You’re gonna do fine, Gil. You’ve been getting every single one of these questions right. I know you’re going to ace this test.” 

He smiles at her softly. “Thanks, Carrots.” He presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist before she can pull her hand away, just where her pulse thrums, and she prays he can’t feel how it picks up at the brush of his lips against her skin. “Now, your turn?” 

Anne yawns as she pulls her flashcards on AP Euro out. “Here you go,” she says, unable to hold another yawn back. 

Gilbert glances at her, worried. It’s the weekend in between AP tests, and the both of them have had two earlier and have two later. Testing was a bitch, and she’s been exhausted for the past few days, the mental effort required to do well on the tests combining with a rigorous study schedule leaving her extremely tired. 

“You need to get some rest, Anne,” he says, setting the flashcards down. 

She rubs at her eyes, shaking her head even as she knows he’s right. “I need to study for AP Euro.” 

“Anne, you have a 97 in that class. You’re _fine._ Come on, get some rest.” 

She groans, closing her eyes and leaning forward until she feels the soft fabric of Gilbert’s shirt press against her forehead. “I have to ace this test as well.” 

He presses a kiss to her head, and she ignores it. 

She’s been having to do that a lot more lately, ignoring the sparks that flood her veins when he touches her, or kisses her cheek, holds her hand and runs his fingers down the curve of her neck. It’s—ridiculous, because Gilbert’s never been this tactile with anyone, she doesn’t think, but she chalks it up to the fact that they’re best friends and they’ve known each other for 5 years. 

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t always have this dizzying, magical effect on her, though. 

“If I have to take a break, so do you, Anne-girl,” he whispers into her hair. She yawns into his shirt once more, sleepily clutching at it, and she can feel him laugh as he pulls her closer. 

“Come on. Lie down.” 

She opens her eyes the littlest bit to toss her books off the couch and onto the floor—she’d care more if this wasn’t AP week and she wasn’t dead on her feet—and lies down. Gilbert shuffles from where her feet are lying in his lap, moving to get up, but Anne sticks out her lip and clutches his wrist. “You. Stay.” 

Gilbert raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure?” 

She closes her eyes and sighs, nodding. “I’m sure.” 

Gilbert runs his hand along the curve of her ankle, left exposed by her shorts, and she tries not to melt into his touch, caring and gentle, even as his rough calluses scrape her skin. She likes it. 

“Whatever you need, Anne.” 

It takes her a bit of time to fall asleep, but as she does so, she comes to a terrifying realization: in that her crush on Gilbert has become even worse, and now, she’s no longer crushing on him, but she’s hopelessly, incredibly, insanely in love with her best friend. 

* * *

She wakes up slowly, like a princess out of a fairytale, and immediately, bright light hits her eyes. Anne grumbles, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face back into her pillow, which shifts under her face. 

Wait, what?” 

Anne’s eyes shoot open to find Gilbert’s face not half a foot away from her. He’s asleep as well, breath fluttering out in soft puffs, and they’re both laying on the couch, their materials on the floor. She’s resting her head on Gilbert’s chest, and he’s completely. 

Anne yawns, pressing a hand to her mouth as she tries to remember what happened. She and Gilbert must have fallen asleep while studying. It makes complete sense—with the both of them being so exhausted lately, but she can’t believe they ended up in such a compromising position. 

She only realizes his hand is wrapped around her waist when he shifts a bit, pressing his nose further into the pillow and tugging her closer to his chest. 

Oh god, why is this everything she had ever wanted and nothing she could ever have at the same time? Anne looks up and sees Gilbert smile softly, clearly enjoying whatever dream he’s having. 

She can only see him in profile now, but it seems as though every single one of his features is accentuated in sleep, made more beautiful by the lack of tension in his face. He looks peaceful, in a way he rarely does during the day, and she aches to wake up with him like this every day. 

She traces the edge of his jaw with her fingers, the curve of his nose, and she falls deeper for him with every second of it. Anne wants to give him that, wants to give him the kind of peace sleep gives, and it’s almost addicting, waking up next to him and being in his arms. 

It’s also ridiculously bittersweet, because she’s never going to get this chance again, and so she needs to savor, needs to hold it precious in her hands like a gemstone. 

This is the only chance she’s ever getting, so she lifts her hand up and runs it through his curls, lingering on the nape of his neck. Soft, like she thought, and now she wants to do that again _so_ badly. It’s disappointing she can’t see the beautiful shades of brown that swirl in his eyes, but he’s peaceful, he’s happy now, and so she’s not going to ruin it. 

Anne leans forward and presses a kiss to the edge of his jaw, like she’s been wanting to for years, smiling at him. “Sleep well, Gil,” she whispers. 

It takes a bit of time for her to untangle herself from his grasp without waking him up, and the second she manages to pull away and stand up, she wants nothing more than to burrow herself back into his side and never, ever let him go, but this is something she’s going to have to get used to. 

It might break her heart to let him go, but it’s her new normal, and she has to learn to accept it before it destroys her from the inside out. 

She leans down and presses another kiss to his forehead, unable to stop herself, before quietly packing up her things and heading to the door to grab her purse. 

“Anne!” she hears, and she turns around to see Bash wave at her. She flails her arms and quickly puts her finger to her lips, telling him to be quiet. 

He quickly picks up on it and lowers his volume, though he looks confused as he approaches her. “What’s going on?” he whispers. 

“Gilbert’s asleep on the couch,” she says, jerking her head towards the living room. “I don’t want to wake him up.” 

“Oh,” Bash says softly. He glances over at the living room and smiles. “You got him to sleep?” 

Anne flushes, although she doesn’t mean to, and her gaze drops to her feet. “Yeah.” 

She can _hear_ Bash’s smirk as he asks, “and how did you do that?” 

She shuffles on her feet, biting her lip before blurting out, “We might have fallen asleep on the couch. I just—I woke up before him and I didn’t want to wake him up because he looks like he’s exhausted. And,” she adds, glancing at the living room, her face softening, “he looks happy.” 

Bash smiles. “He _is_ happy, Anne. I have to say, thank you.” 

She frowns. “For what?” 

“You know, spending time with Gilbert. I worry about him all the time. He’s like my little brother, and he doesn’t spend nearly enough time chasing girls like I did at his age.” 

She snorts. The very idea that Gilbert Blythe would chase a girl is preposterous. Girls usually chased him, and she couldn’t blame them for that. “You don’t say?” 

“Hey,” Bash protests, but his eyes are sparkling merrily at her. “No, it’s nothing like that. You just—you really make him happy, you know? He’s a bit too much of a man, sometimes, you know. Stressing and tired and driving Mary up the wall with worry. But, he’s been less like that these few weeks. Less of a moke.” He places a hand on her shoulder. “You’re good for him. So, I got to say thank you.” 

Anne blinks back tears that gather in her eyes at Bash’s words. She’s grateful she’s not the only one who sees this side of Gilbert, the kind that works too hard and deserves to relax and be happy. “I’m happy to spend time with him too, Bash. I’ll miss him a lot when we leave.” 

“But you’re stay in touch, won’t you?” 

“Oh, of course.” God, she can’t imagine not talking to Gilbert. It’s like, when they met their threads of life had tangled together, and now she’s so thoroughly caught up in his life she never wants to be separate from it. “If he doesn’t get tired of me first.” 

Bash laughs. “You know he could never get tired of you, Anne.” 

She grins. “Well,” she adds, glancing at her phone, “I’ve got to get going. Marilla’s going to be expecting me for dinner soon.” 

Bash nods. “Bye, Anne. See you soon.” 

“Later, Bash." 

Anne wraps her arms around herself as she walks back to Green Gables, trying not to think too much about Bash’s words. 

But she can’t help it. They seem to have burned into her memory like a brand, and she can’t get rid of them no matter what she tries. 

He makes her happy too, so, _so_ happy, and she’s desperately gone for him, so much so that she doesn’t think she can ever give her heart to someone else again. And this is the tragical romance she’s always been looking for, isn’t it, but oh, this—this is ridiculous. 

She wants to berate her younger self for looking for tragedy in romance because it is not romantic and wonderful, it’s nothing but painful, knowing Gilbert’s ruined her for anyone else, left her forlorn and heartbroken. And she wants to hate him for it, she does, but she can’t. She just loves him. 

Anne wipes away her tears and stands up straight, determined to retain some amount of pride. Languishing isn’t going to do anything. She can do this. She can learn to suppress her feelings and be his friend. 

She’ll have to, cause losing Gilbert would hurt more than anything else. 

* * *

**_chat:_ ** _like newsies but canadian_

**anne:** guys we have a meeting tmrw! don’t forget!!

**gilbert:** i’m bringing coffee! text your orders below

**jerry:** blythe i stg if you get me another caramel instead of vanilla latte, i’m murdering you

**gilbert:** not my fault you have reprehensible taste in drinks

**jerry:** please stop texting like you’re in english class

**diana:** black coffee for me, gil

**anne:** since when do you drink black coffee

**diana:** it’s part of the college aesthetic i’m trying to get into it

**cole:** tea for me!

**josie:** damn cole, we all already know you’re a hipster no need to prove it time and time again

**cole:** wow thanks josie

**ruby:** what are we even working on tmrw?

**anne:** the water quality piece

**gilbert:** and yes, we’ve gotten this one approved and ms. stacy is ok w/ it

**anne:** are you going to keep bringing that up every time we have a serious piece

**gilbert:** never letting you forget it, carrots ;)

**diana:** ugh go flirt somewhere else

**anne:** i’m not dignifying that with a response

* * *

“Hey.” Anne looks up to see Gilbert smiling at her. He puts a hand on her shoulder and presses into the muscles there, and she tries not to moan. God, this piece on water quality had been kicking her ass for the past few days. 

“Oh, thank god for coffee,” she sighs, making grabby hands at the coffee container in his hands. 

He laughs, setting down her drink before pushing the others into the center of the table. “So, how did your tests go?” 

She frowns. “I don’t know. As well as they could, I guess. I just hope I did well.” She turns to face him more fully then, knees brushing her own. “How about your test? How did AP Anatomy go?” 

He leans back in his chair, fiddling with the lid on his coffee. “Ok, I think. I just hope I get a 5.” 

“Don’t you only need a 4 for the credit to be accepted into U of T’s med program?” she says, sipping her drink. 

He nods slowly. “Well, that’s true, but you can’t deny that a 5 looks much better than a 4.” 

“Ok, that’s fair,” she concedes. “It’s not like I want a 4 on AP Euro either.

He smiles at her. “Got any plans for Sunday?” 

She’s gotten used to him asking her if she’s free now, even though they’ve only been hanging out semi-regularly since the beginning of April. “No, I don’t think so,” she answers, shaking her head. 

“Want to go see a movie?” 

“Depends on what movie it is. I’m _not_ sitting through another horrible action film with explosions.” 

He winces. “Me neither. Michael Bay is boring.” 

“Thank you!” 

“I was thinking we could go see _The Cure?”_

“The incredibly scientifically inaccurate movie about a disease?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “We can make fun of the science the whole time and point out everything that’s wrong with it.” 

She smiles. “Ok then. But only if you’re buying the popcorn.” 

He stretches his arm over the back of her chair and pulls her closer into him. She leans against his side, head on his shoulder. “Of course I am, Carrots.” 

“Hey, Earth to Anne,” Josie calls, from the other end of the room. 

Anne startles, although she doesn’t pull herself away from Gilbert. “Yeah, sorry Josie, what’s up?” 

Josie rolls her eyes. “If you could detach yourself from Blythe for ten fucking seconds, I have a question about this sentence. It fucks up the formatting if I use the words I originally wanted, so I thought you might know a few better ones. Maybe a bit shorter?” 

Anne glances at Gilbert, who waves his hand as if to tell her to go before she stands up, walking over to Josie to help her out with whatever she needs. 

The rest of the meeting runs rather smoothly, and Anne’s packing up her things while Gilbert helps Moody with something. As usual, he’s going to walk her home today, so she waits for him, scrolling through something on her phone as he finishes up. 

“Glad to see you pulled your head out of your ass, Shirley,” Josie snorts, as she passes with Jane. 

Anne’s head shoots up. “What?” 

“Oh, please, Anne,” Ruby giggles. “I’m _so_ over Gilbert. Ever since like, I was fifteen. You don’t have to look so guilty. 

“Um, I—uh,” she stammers. 

“No need to hide it, Anne,” Josie snickers, although without malice. She smirks. “Everyone knows.” 

“Everyone knows what? She repeats blankly. Her head is _spinning._ Was there something in the food supply that was making everyone in Avonlea act weird? What the hell were they going on about?

Jane steps forward, smiling kindly at her. “We’re just happy for you, Anne. You have no idea how exhausting it’s been for the past few years. We all even took bets on it.” 

Josie nods. “You won me $50. Thanks for that.” She pats Anne on the arm before walking away, leaving her utterly confused. 

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on Josie’s words before Gilbert appears at her side. “Ready?” 

“I guess.” They start walking, and like always, he takes her hand in his. She stares at it, prays he can’t feel how sweaty her hands are. “Do—do you know what they were betting on?” 

Gilbert’s forehead wrinkles as he looks down at her. “What did you say?” 

“Josie just mentioned I won her $50 in a bet. I don’t understand?” 

“Oh, that,” he laughs. He pulls her closer to him. “That’s not a big deal. Typical Josie.” 

She opens her mouth to ask him more about it, but then he begins to recount the story of Bash and he trying to make a surprise dinner for Mary when she got back from her shift at the hospital, and she loses herself in his laughter, wrapped up in the blissful feeling of being here, now. 

* * *

It’s after the movie, and Anne finds herself sitting with Gilbert on the porch of Green Gables. 

Whenever she’s with him, she always finds herself in this weird limbo. Because Gilbert is such a dichotomy for her. He is her childhood: red apples and swollen full moons, he is shy glances and dark curls. And yet, he is her future in a way no one else is: crisp white dress shirts and two hands, tangling together in the night, prom gowns and new apartments. There is something unique about him that lets her straddle both worlds. 

She’s lying on the porch swing, her legs in his lap, as she reads. “Anne,” he says softly. 

She sets the book down and looks at him. “Are we going to be ok after graduation?” 

It’s the first time he’s mentioned it, although she knows it’s been on everyone’s mind for the past month or so. Prom is in a week, and—everything’s about to change. They’re all going to go away, and what they have, it won’t be there anymore. 

Anne sits up then, and watches Gilbert. She’s thought about this a million times before, but good god, how can he look so beautiful??

Especially in the moonlight, turning his hair darker, like the black of night, his skin so pale it almost seems to glow. He looks almost elfin, like a supernatural being sent to wreak havoc and cause insanity. He’s gorgeous, in an ethereal way, and he’s not hers. 

But this isn’t about her. This is about him, and their friends. 

“Come here, Gilbert,” she says quietly. 

He shuffles closer, their knees brushing, and she scooches over, so he can lay down on the porch swing next to her. Almost as if they’ve done this a thousand times—although this is the first—he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him. 

Anne stiffens, but then relaxes into his side, laying her head on his chest. This is totally normal, right? Friends cuddled like this all the time. She had done it with Diana before. This is super ok. Super platonic. 

“We’re going to be ok after graduation, Gilbert. You know that Josie can’t go more than two hours without teasing Cole, and you know that Jerry needs to make fun of Moody to breathe, so—” 

“I didn’t mean our friends, Anne. I know they’re going to be fine and that we’ll meet up when we see each other for the holidays. I meant us. You and me.” 

_Oh._

Anne gapes at him. How—how can she answer that? 

But she always knows the answer. 

“Of course we’re going to be fine, Gilbert. You know you’re my best friend.” 

He smiles at her. “What about Diana?” 

She shakes her head. “Diana—she’s different. She’s my bosom friend, my other half. But you…” she reaches out and touches his face. “You’re—you’re my Gilbert.” 

“That a good thing?” he teases.

“It’s the best thing.” 

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Promise me we’ll keep in touch?” 

Anne laughs. “As if you needed me to promise that. You already know I’m going to text you like, every day and call you all the time.” 

He clenches his jaw, a nervous tick that has Anne sitting up a bit more fully. “What is it, Gil?” 

“Can I write you letters?” 

She stares at him. “What?” 

“I want to write you letters. Like, the kind where you send them via mail and a stamp, where you actually hand-write them for the other person to read. I’ll call and text, of course, but—you’re Anne. You deserve better than that. I want to write you letters. Only if you’re ok with it, of course.” 

Anne pinches herself. There is no _way_ this is real. There’s absolutely no way Gilbert is asking her if he can write her love letters. Ok, maybe they’re not _exactly_ love letters, since he’s not in love with her, but it’s the closest thing to a love letter she’ll get, and she feels like she’s going to pass out. 

“Anne?” He takes her hands in his and squeezes them, bringing her back to earth. “Is that ok?” 

“Yes!” she blurts. She slaps a hand over her mouth, mortified, but thankfully Gilbert just laughs. “Yes,” she repeats, this time quieter. “I’d be honored.” 

He lifts up a hand, his pinky held out, eyes shining. “Pen pals?” 

Anne raises her own hand and wraps her pinky around his. “Pen pals.”

They lower their hands and—oh, he’s so close she can feel his breath on her face, she would barely have to move an inch to kiss him. 

And she wants to kiss him, so badly it hurts, like an open wound, but, she doesn’t—she can’t. 

That’s not what she and Gilbert are to each other. And yet, looking at him right now, it’s hard for her to remember exactly what they _are_ to each other. She can count every single eyelash on his eyes. Every single swirling shade of brown in his irises. Her mind is filled with him, and she feels as though her heartbeat is clanging out his name in her chest.

Her hand loosely wraps around his wrist, and she can feel the erratic pulse of his heart. She only prays that he can’t feel how insane her own heart is going, how it feels like it’s running a marathon while stopping at the same time. It’s like their hearts are trying to drum a duet out, an irregular, erratic one that doesn’t mesh at all. 

Everything about Gilbert is contradictory. He skims his fingers over her waist and makes her breath catch in her throat, and then he’ll lob an apple at her. He’ll make her heart pound and stop at the same time, make her feel like she’s flying and grounded. 

He makes her feel in extremes, an intensity of emotion not even she knows how to properly handle, and it is moments like these that seem to be far too much sometimes. 

Anne can see his throat bob as he swallows, and the air between them seems thicker, not muggy, but simply thicker, as if everything has slowed down and condensed into this one moment. 

She feels like—like she’s dizzy, and she wants to lean in and kiss him and run her thumb over his cheek and hug him and be with him but she can’t. Because she’s setting herself up for heartbreak and she doesn’t think she can survive that if Gilbert does it to her. 

His eyes flicker down and—she knows Gilbert, knows that he’s about to kiss her right now and she can’t let that happen. 

She clears her throat and sits up, getting off the porch swing. Her hands shake as she runs them through her hair. 

“I—I need to get to bed,” she stammers, tucking her hair behind her ear.

And Gilbert, always knowing her better than she knows herself, simply nods. Anne knows he can tell her hands are shaking—because it’s obvious as she tries to steady them. But this is—it’s too much. 

She can see so clearly that everything she’s ever wanted with Gilbert is right _there,_ but she knows that she’s not the one he wants. Momentary attraction aside, there’s no way he could feel the depth of emotion she felt for him. It’s just impossible, simply impossible. It’s not meant to be and Anne doesn’t think they ever will be. She’s the one who fucked everything up, falling for someone who—who doesn’t love her. 

It’s what it is. 

Gilbert smiles at her sadly before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning away. “Goodbye, Anne.” Part of her is worried about him walking back to his house this late at night, but no sound seems to come from her mouth when she tries to tell him. She simply has to watch him walk away. 

She knows it will not be the last time. 

* * *

“Anne.” 

She groans. 

“Anne.” 

“What, Gilbert?” 

They’re currently sprawled out on the floor of her living room, watching a truly _horrible_ B-list movie called _Machete._ Frankly, Anne can’t tell what’s happening on the screen, because she’s too preoccupied with her phone. 

“Anne.” 

“What, Gil!” she snaps, finally setting her phone down. 

He whistles and holds his hands up in surrender. “Calm down, Carrots. I just wanted to ask you something.” 

Anne grunts, tossing her phone down. “What is it?” 

“Will you go to prom with me?” 

She blinks. 

“What?” 

Gilbert reaches up and scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah. Prom’s coming up and I know we all agreed that we’d go as a group because the tradition of needing a date to prom is heteronormative and antiquated, but—I don’t know, I thought we could go together. You know, make it even more fun. Color coordinate and everything.” 

Anne blinks again. “You want to take me to prom?” 

Gilbert looks confused. “Uh, yeah? Who else would I take? If you don’t want to, that’s fine as well,” he rushes. “I don’t want to like, label anything or—” 

“Gilbert,” she says, interrupting him. She’s about to make a very, _very_ bad decision, blurring the lines between the two of them, and she knows she shouldn’t. 

Fuck it. 

“Yes. I’ll go to prom with you.”

He grins at her, carefree and wide, and she can’t come up with a single reason as to why she’d even consider saying no if she could make him smile like that. “You’re the best, Anne. I love you.” 

The smile slips off her face as she stares at him. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s said it at first, as if it’s something normal and regular, something that falls from his lips with ease, but no matter how much she might wish it does, it’s not, and the fact still remains that this is the first time he’s said anything of the like to her. 

He realizes what he’s said a moment later, and his head swivels around to look at her with a horrified expression on his face. “Is—is it ok that I said that? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I just—you deserved to know.” 

As a friend. He means it as a friend. 

It breaks her heart and puts it back together all at once, but she can’t react right now. She can’t. She needs to wait for him to leave so she can throw herself on her bed and sort through these very confusing feelings that she doesn’t know how to handle, sort through what is happening with her. She doesn’t—how the fuck is she supposed to handle this? 

Knowing that Gilbert loves her but not in the way she loves him—it’s too much and she thinks she might throw up. But she won’t. And, if there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s hiding her emotions behind a mask. She’s had plenty of practice, anyways. Foster care does that to you. She might be a little out of sorts, but when it comes to Gilbert, hiding how she feels around him is like second nature to her.

She notices in that second he’s wearing her favorite hair ribbon, wrapped loosely around his wrist like a bracelet, and something in her breaks. Her heart, she thinks, or whatever walls she’s kept up. 

“I love you too, Gil.” 

She probably says it a bit too seriously, because she means it in a _very_ different way than he does but it’s—it’s the only way she knows how to say it. And she savors the feeling of those words on her tongue because it’s the only way that she’ll ever get to say them. 

He smiles at her though, broadly, and ducks down, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

She leans into his touch, smiling, but it’s bittersweet—like it always is. 

Anne leans back against the couch and pretends she doesn’t notice that Gilbert’s hand is smoothing her hair down. 

She’s going to have to do that a lot more. Pretends he doesn’t notice how he makes her feel.

* * *

Anne runs her hand through her hair. “It’s hopeless, Diana,” she says sadly. “I’m never finding a dress.” 

Diana shakes her head. “That’s not the Anne Shirley-Cuthbert I know! Come on! We’ll find the perfect dress for you.” 

“Nothing pink or red, of course,” Anne adds, as Mary materializes from the large rack of dresses. 

“How about this one?” she says, holding it out. 

Anne gasps as her eyes land on the dress. Deep, deep blue, like the color of the ocean, with beautiful ruching. Oh, she’d feel like a princess in this. “Mary,” she gasps. “It’s probably ridiculously expensive.” 

Mary grins like the cat who ate the canary. “I found it on sale. It’s in your price range.” 

Anne thinks she might pass out as she reaches a hand out and brushes the back of it against the dress. “It’s beautiful.” 

Mary nods to the dressing room. “Go on. Try it out.” 

Anne swallows roughly and nods, not trusting herself to say anything else. She quickly slips the dress on, and it’s a little long on her, but hemming it should be easy. She smooths her hands over the dress. 

The tulle feels like a cloud underneath her fingers, and yet, all she can think about is her freckled shoulders. She’s never worn anything this pretty in her entire life, never felt so much like a princess. 

_Princess Cordelia,_ she thinks, and giggles. 

“Guys,” she calls. “I’m coming out.” 

She pushes back the dressing room curtain and steps out of the room, heading to the larger mirrors there so she can see herself a bit better. “Anne,” Diana breathes. 

“You think it’s ok?” she asks nervously, smoothing her hands over the tulle. The gown is held up by two thin straps and, with a shallow V-neck neckline, and Anne gently runs a finer along the edge of the gown near her collarbone. 

Diana steps up behind her and puts her chin on Anna’s shoulder, hugging her. “You look stunning. Absolutely stunning. Gilbert’s going to _freak,_ when he sees you in this.” 

Anne gives her a shaky smile. She’s sure that won’t happen, considering that Gilbert saw her as nothing more than a friend, but that’s fine. She wants a dress to make _her_ feel beautiful. 

“What about you, Anne?” Mary asks, stepping closer. “Do you like it?” 

Anne can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles in her chest, and she spins around, her arms thrown out at her sides. “I love it. I feel like—like a princess. Like I’m on a cloud. Oh, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Diana, we are going to look like absolute _visions.”_

Diana smiles. “You know we are. I’m going to go pick out some shoes for you.” 

Anne nods, taking another look at herself in the mirror. Should she pin her hair up? Should she leave it down?

Part of her is a little ashamed she wants to wear it however Gilbert thinks is best. 

She bites her lip in excitement as she runs her hands over the gown again. Even if she and Gilbert were just going as friends, she knows she’ll have a fantastic time with all her friends. How can she not? Especially with Gilbert. She always has the best time with him. It’s how it is. 

Mary steps forward. “Thank you, Anne.” 

She glances over at her. “What for?” 

“For being there for Gilbert. That boy,” she laughs, shaking her head, “doesn’t know how to stop working. All he does is work. In school, around the house. He just works himself to exhaustion, and he’s the absolute worst at stopping. Sometimes, we have to force him to stop, to calm down, to get some sleep. He just can’t stop taking care of people, you know?” She lays a hand on Anne’s shoulder and smiles at her through the mirror. “I think it started when his dad passed away. Now he takes care of Delly and his friends and even Bash and I. But he needs someone to take care of him. That’s why I’m so glad you two started dating. You’re a wonderful girlfriend, Anne.” She squeezes Anne’s shoulder. “With someone as wonderful as you, he’s—he’s the Gilbert he was always meant to be, happy, without the weight of the world on his shoulders.” 

Faintly, she thinks, if this were a movie, there would be a record scratch in the background, a freeze frame, a completely silent and still moment. It certainly feels like that now, because—she can’t think. Her brain has completely frozen, as if all her core processes have stopped running, her train of thought completely derailed. 

Mary steps away, a call coming in on her cell phone, and Anne looks at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks are flushed but her eyes—they look wide and horrified, and she’s not sure how to process this information. 

“Anne!” Diana calls, bounding up to her. “I found the perfect pair of shoes!” She shows Anne a beautiful pair of black heels, but stops smiling when she sees the look on Anne’s face. 

“Anne,” she says, worriedly. “What’s wrong?” 

“Diana,” Anne breathes, nearly in hysterics. “Why—why does Mary think that Gilbert and I are dating?” 

Diana’s eyebrows furrow. “What?” 

“Why does Mary think that Gilbert and I are _dating?”_ she repeats, stressing the last word. 

“Because...you guys are?” 

“No, we’re not!” 

_“What?”_

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Anne freaks. She dashes off the podium and into the dressing room, grappling for her phone. “I need—I need to talk to Gilbert right now!”

“Anne, Anne.” Diana catches her by her shoulders as Anne pulls her phone out of her bag and stumbles out of the dressing room. “Calm down.” 

“I can’t, Diana. I need to talk to Gil, right now.” 

“Anne, wait.” Diana stops her, looks her in the eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I—I didn’t know we were dating, Diana!” 

Her best friend gapes at her. “How—how could you not know?” 

“I don’t—what? None of this makes any sense!” 

“Anne,” Diana says slowly. “Gilbert told me that he told you he loved you a few days ago, and you said it back. What is going _on?”_

“I don’t know!” She’s shaking in her beautiful, beautiful dress that she already knows she’s going to buy no matter what, but, oh god — _Prom._ _Gilbert._

She needs to talk to him right now. 

Her hands shake as she types out a text message.

* * *

**_chat:_ ** _gil_

**anne:** i need to talk you right now

**gilbert:** what’s going on

**gilbert:** are you okay??

**anne:** we just need to talk. not over the phone. in person. 

**gilbert:** anne, you’re scaring me. please, are you ok?

**anne:** i’m fine. we just need to talk. meet me in front of green gables at 9:30 tmrw

* * *

Unlike last time—oh god, last time, when they went on the picnic—she’s sitting on the porch swing waiting for Gilbert, her knee bouncing up and down. Her hands shake, and she doesn’t know how to even start this. 

She glances down at her hands nervously, and with a shock of horror, she realizes she’s wearing his shirt—the button down one she’d never given back to him. It’s become something of a tradition for her to slip on his shirt whenever she wants, and although it doesn’t smell like him—because obviously not, she had washed it—somehow, whenever she puts it on, she can still feel Gilbert’s touch, like he’s right there with her. 

But she doesn’t have time to linger on her outfit, because suddenly, brown curls appear near the horizon. 

She spots him in the distance, and she shoots off like a rocket, skidding to a stop in the middle of her yard. 

“Anne,” he calls, running to her. He stops in front of her and takes her hands in his, and that little gesture has changed _so_ much in meaning in the past day. “Anne, what’s going on? Are you ok?” 

She steadies herself. “I’m ok.” 

He nods, still looking worried. 

“Gilbert. Why does Mary think we’re dating?” 

Clearly, this is not what he’s expecting, because he frowns at her. 

“Because we are?” 

It’s almost exactly what Diana said to her yesterday, and yet, Anne does not want to throw up any less.

“Are you—are you fucking joking with me?” she splutters out.

“What are you talking about, Anne?” 

She takes a deep breath and lets out the words that cut into her soul, words that she knows to be the truth. 

“We’re not dating, Gilbert.”

Immediately, it’s like a gigantic shadow crosses his face. He steps back from her, and his face crumbles in such a way that she wants nothing more than to pull him back into her arms and reassure him, to bring his beautiful smile back. 

“Are you—are we breaking up?” 

“What?” she screeches. It’s too much for her to take in, and she spins away from him, running a hand through her hair before spinning back. “How can we break up if we’ve never been dating?” 

“We have been dating, Anne,” he insists. “You’re wearing my shirt!” 

“Since when?” she yells, throwing up her hands in defeat. “Since when have we been dating?” 

“Since I took you out on the picnic!” he says. 

“The picnic,” she repeats numbly. The one at the beginning of April, right when he started changing—when he started to become more affectionate and personal. She—she didn’t think it’s because he thought they were _dating._

Her, dating Gilbert Blythe. The idea is so preposterous she almost wants to laugh. 

“Yes!” he nods. “We’ve been dating since _April,_ Anne. How could you not know?” 

“You never—you never asked me out!” 

“I _did,”_ he stresses. “Remember? It was after the newspaper meeting in April, when I asked if you would be up for dating any of your friends, and then later I walked you home and I asked you out and you nodded and—oh. Holy _fuck.”_

“What?” 

“The earbuds,” Gilbert repeats, a bit faintly. “I thought you could hear me through the music, I made _sure_ you could hear me through the music, but you—you must have turned up the volume when I handed you my phone.” 

Her hands fly to her mouth as she recalls what he’s talking about. “Shit.” 

“You—you really didn’t know we were dating?” he asks, and her heart breaks, but this time not for her, but for him. He sounds so small, so crushed, and she doesn’t—how the fuck is she supposed to fix this? 

She shakes her head. “I—Mary mentioned it to me while shopping for prom dresses, and I asked Diana and she thought we were. Mary did.” 

Gilbert runs a hand through his hair. “Oh god,” he groans. 

“Who—who else thinks we’re dating, Gil?” 

He runs a hand over his face. “Everyone, Anne. That’s the bet that Josie was talking about. They were betting on when we’d get together. So I told Bash when I got home that I asked you out, and I mentioned I was planning on asking you out to Jerry, and I figured Diana knew through him. And then Diana mentioned that she asked you but, you know, you didn’t like—label it or anything, and I didn’t want to push you so I decided not to label it either, and then everyone else figured it out through those two, but they knew we were taking it slow. Apparently, it’s been a running joke between the rest of them, when we’d get together, so they asked me and I said yes, and—” he groans again. “Ms. Stacy asked me if we were a thing, Anne. _Ms. Stacy._ And I said yes cause like, I thought we were but I guess—I was wrong.” 

She can’t move. “So—so I’m the only one who didn’t know?” 

“I just—I don’t get it. _How could you not know we were dating?”_

“I didn’t—you didn’t _say_ anything!” 

“I didn’t want to label us, Anne!” he snaps. “I wanted to take this slow, for your sake. I just—I kissed you!” 

“On the cheek! I thought that meant you saw me like Mary!” 

“Carrots,” he says exasperatedly. “No.” 

“Well what was I supposed to think, Gilbert? I thought I was just getting my hopes up, because I _knew_ you would never see me as anything more than a friend!” 

He looks completely and utterly flabbergasted, and Anne’s always hated that word, because it sounds disgusting, but it’s the only way to describe the expression of shock on his face. “Anne, why would you ever think that?” 

“I’m not _blind,_ Gilbert. Look at me and look at Winnie. It’s not hard to see that I’m not your type.” 

He steps closer to her. “No, Anne. You’re, you’re _exactly_ my type. In fact, I’m pretty sure my type is just—you.” 

She closes her eyes, unable to process everything that’s happening right now. “Do you mean that, Gilbert?” 

“Anne, how—how could you not notice how much I like you?” 

She opens her eyes but she can’t look at him, not yet. “I was scared. I liked you _so much,_ I’ve liked you for like, three years, and I was scared. I didn’t want to lose one of my best friends. I didn’t want to lose my partner.” 

He steps forward, she can tell by his shoes, ratty, beat up converse that she can’t help but smile at. “God, Anne, you’re like, you’re my _girl._ You’re maybe my favorite person in the whole world. You pull just the slightest bit ahead of Delly, I think.” 

“I was so _sure,_ Gilbert. That—that I wasn’t your type and everything you were doing that was like, dating was just you being affectionate. You never even kissed me.” 

She feels his fingers, feather light against her face, and then he’s tipping her face up, and her breath stops in her throat as she looks at him. “I was trying to respect your boundaries, Anne. I wanted to take this at your pace, give you all the choices. When I said I love you—” 

“I thought you meant as a friend.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m _in_ love with you, Anne. I—I’m completely in love with you.” 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is a lover of learning, of science and literature and history, of mythology, of nature and biology, and yet, for the life of her, she cannot come up with a single scientific explanation as to why the earth stops turning in this exact second, why the oxygen vanishes from the air and why everything falls perfectly silent. 

All she knows is Gilbert’s touch on her cheek and her heart pounding in her chest. 

She doesn’t know what to say, how she can make up for these months of miscommunication and confusion, so she decides not to say anything and instead, acts. 

She leans up onto her toes and kisses him—and this is important because it is _Gilbert_ who has made the first move in their relationship, who asked her out and who took her out on a date. Anne has been on the receiving end of his love for two whole months now, and it is her turn to give back some of it. 

He reciprocates instantly, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her closer, and the breath disappears from her lungs when he presses himself against her, arms tugging her impossibly close, her mind spinning. 

His mouth is hot and soft against hers, and he kisses her like she’s a dream, as if she’ll vanish from underneath his touch, and she understands the impulse because she feels the same way about him. His hand slides up from her waist to splay across her back, and she’s never noticed how large his hands are until she realizes one can span almost the entire width of the small of her back. 

Anne wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, pulls him down, letting herself relax onto her feet rather than on her toes. God, he’s so much taller than her, and yet, it only seems to encourage him. He kisses her harder, and she feels like a thousand monarch butterflies have taken flight in her stomach. 

Kissing him feels like standing in the middle of a forest and looking up at the sky through a canopy of leaves, a certain oneness with the world and everything around her. Kissing him feels like diving deep into the ocean and sitting on the bottom of a coral reef, everything silent and far away except for what is at her fingertips. Kissing him feels like waking up on a cold, winter morning, wanting to dive back underneath the covers and huddle in warmth, relishing every single second. 

Kissing him is the most perfect thing in the world, and Anne cannot think of how she denied herself of this—this euphoria—for so long. 

He’s the first to pull back, though not far, and she tries to catch her breath. He does this, every time, turn her world upside down and inside out. 

“I love you too, Gilbert,” she says, running her thumb over the edge of his lip. “And I really, _really,_ want to date you.” 

He huffs a laugh, pressing his forehead against hers. He’s still got her wrapped up securely in his arms, and she doesn’t think she can ever bear to leave. “So that means we can go to Prom together? As a couple?” 

_“Please.”_

“Oh, thank god.” 

He ducks down and kisses her again, and when he sweeps his tongue into her mouth her knees go weak, and she’s grateful for his arms, holding her close to him, because otherwise she’d sure she would have fainted, like a heroine out of one of her books. 

But no. This is better than one of her books. 

Because in her books, she doesn’t get to feel Gilbert’s heart under her hand, run her fingers through his curls. This is so much more vivid than anything she could have ever dreamt up, and god, to think, she was the only thing getting in the way of her own happiness.

* * *

**_chat:_ ** _like newsies but canadian_

**moody:** guys when are we meeting for dinner? 

**josie:** oh my GOD moody we’ve gone over this like,,,,ten times we’re meeting at Blair’s @ 6:30

**josie:** you gotta tattoo this on ur forehead or smth i stg

**ruby:** hey! moody’s forehead is PERFECT

**cole:** oh ruby you are too sweet for this world

**tillie:** she is the purest one of all of us

**jerry:** where are blythe and anne

**diana:** you guys wanna know smth funny abt them

**jane:** always

**jane:** but can you like,,,,tell us? doesn’t that violate your trust as anne’s bff?

**diana:** trust me this is fucking hilarious and you will want to know

**tillie:** spill the tea ma’am

**diana:** apparently anne didn’t know she and gilbert were dating

**josie:** sjnshwkasha WHAT

**diana:** yeah she just thought gilbert was being like, super affectionate or smth

**diana:** and like so she freaked when she found out gilbert thought they were dating cause like, we all know she’s liked him forever and she didn’t think he felt the same way

**diana:** all good now tho miscommunication cleared and they are sickening

**cole:** those two take obliviousness to a whole new level

**gilbert:** i take SO much offense to that statement

**jane:** heyyyy blythe’s here!! would have thought you were off sucking face w/ anne

**moody:** dude ruby and i got our shit together before you and anne

**ruby:** and it was wonderful. also did you just insult yourself w/ that moody?

**gilbert:** that is….a fair point

**anne:** don’t listen to them gil they’re just jealous we have a great story

**gilbert:** ya that’s probably it

**tillie:** no we just need clarification for the bet

**jerry:** it’s all about the money

**cole:** ca-ching $$$$

**anne:** i hate all of yo

**cole:** no you don’t. see you @ blairs!

**ruby:** omg can’t wait for prom!

**jane:** see? p u r e

* * *

“I still can’t believe Anne didn’t know Gilbert and she were dating. After he asked her out. I mean, I knew she was oblivious, but.” Cole smirks at Diana. “This is ridiculous.” 

Diana rolls her eyes. “You weren’t there for her freakout. It was _intense.”_

“Could you all stop talking like I’m not here?” Anne interjects.

Jerry snickers. “It’s just too funny, Anne.” 

“Yeah. Sounds like the plotline of a bad rom-com or something.”

“You don’t need to make it sound like _that,_ Cole. It wasn’t _that_ weird.” 

Diana snorts from where she’s tucked into Jerry’s side, looking stunning in her red gown. “Anne, we had bets going on about when you two would get together. Literally everyone saw the heart eyes you kept throwing at each other every two seconds.” 

Anne gapes at her best friend. “What?” She turns to Gilbert. “Did you know about this?” 

Gilbert grins sheepishly. “Bash did tell me if he had to see me look at you longingly one more time, he would throw me out of her house.” 

“Oh my god,” Anne mutters, dropping her face into her hands. “And I call myself a hopeless romantic.” 

Gilbert laughs. “I think you’re plenty romantic, Carrots.”

She smiles up at her, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling herself into his side. He looks so handsome in his suit, matching her gown perfectly, and she’d been touched when he’d appeared with a beautiful corsage for her to slip on her wrist. 

“Wait,” Jerry says slowly, attracting the attention of everyone around them. “If Anne didn’t know they were dating, does that invalidate the bet?” 

Josie gasps. “Oh my god. Ruby, pull up the spreadsheet, now.” 

Their friends huddle around Ruby, and Anne and Gilbert watch from the side, incredibly amused. 

“Can you believe they bet on us?” 

Anne tilts her head. “Well, Jerry _does_ try to monetize everything, so yeah, I can.” 

Tillie glances up at them. “It shouldn’t invalidate the bet, right? Because like, they look like they’re crazy into each other.” 

Gilbert raises an eyebrow. “That’s because we are.” 

“But the bet stipulates that we get paid depending on when they started dating. What do you guys consider to be the start of your relationship?” Moody presses. 

Anne and Gilbert glance at each other. “We don’t even get any money out of this,” Anne says. 

“I’m offended.” 

“Should we tell them?” 

“Nah.” He smirks at her. “We can make a few bets of our own, though.” 

“Fuck off, Blythe!” Jerry calls over. “I was planning on sharing my winnings with you, but I guess not!”

Anne laughs. “I like the way you think.” 

He leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of her cheek, soft and trusting, and she hears Jane call out “PDA at prom! That was my bet!” 

She rolls her eyes fondly and lets Gilbert lead her away from their insane friends, to the dance floor. He pulls her closer, one hand loosely gripping her own while the other sweeps around her waist, tugging her close. 

“Have I mentioned you look beautiful tonight?” 

She shrugs, grinning. “Once or twice.” 

It’s been far more than that, in truth: he’d breathed it when he’d come to get her at Green Gables, at dinner, when they entered the room, in fact, she’s not sure more than ten minutes have gone by between him mentioning how she looks.

She loves it. 

Anne lets her other hand rest on his chest as they sway gently to the music, neither of them particularly adept dancers. “But thank you.” 

He smiles at her, the hand around her waist reaching up and tugging on one of her curls, which she’d let spill down her back in loose ringlets. “I love your hair like this.”

“Gilbert,” she scoffs. 

He brushes back a strand of hair. “So, am I ever getting my shirt back?” he smirks.

She smiles. “Am I ever getting my scarf back?” 

Gilbert rolls his eyes. “But I don’t want to give it back,” he whines. “What’s mine is yours, isn’t that the saying?” 

He leans down, so close their noses are brushing. “And I love you in my shirt.” 

“Of course you would, you Neanderthal. And that saying is for married couples.” 

“Oh, right,” Gilbert smirks. “I’m going to have to make sure you know exactly when that happens, aren’t I?” 

She closes her eyes. “Oh god, I’m going to have to hear you joke about this for the rest of my life, aren’t I?” 

“You _are_ my girlfriend, Carrots.” 

Anne laughs. “Thank you for the clarification, Blythe.” 

He kisses her swiftly, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of this feeling, the way he melts her heart and makes her head spin. She’s kissed him plenty in the past week, and yet, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get enough of kissing him. 

Gilbert pulls back and drops a light kiss on her cheek, fingers flexing at her waist to draw her closer to him. 

“Anytime.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [here](https://www.promgirl.com/shop/dresses/viewitem-PD2378320) is anne's prom dress! i picked the blue as an homage to 3x10. your comments and kudos make me happier than anne in a meadow!! come talk to me about the show! you can find me on tumblr: @[parkersedith](https://parkersedith.tumblr.com)


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